Saturday, November 7, 2015

Funaday Workaday a fun i've never known

Before sleep thoughts laying on my stomach in the park
Rob me blind! rob me blind!
So sure that makes the most sense
When a thing sleeps is when it is time to accept its money
Like working in the restaurant 
Ok pay me and I'll go home
The full-body subway turnstiles like iron maidens
push me along
Thinking about money as if I am from another planet 
"Ah yes I must have exact change, hold on"
Little coins in my coinpurse glowing through my pocket 
Little crinkly bills 
Flowing like a river through my fingers 
"Thank you have a nice day"
In the lining of my nice lady coat 
Coat of a nice lady
When I'm sleeping is when the money comes and goes
The restaurant goes to sleep and we collect the money
It goes dark and quiet
Closes its eyes 
I am a restaurant and the restaurant is me
At home in bed sleep, precious, sleep
says the restaurant
At home in bed
He is mad at me because I can't identify the plant with small yellow flowers
Language isn't important anyways he mocks bitterly 
stomps away, glaring from across the room
I roll over becoming aware of the bed 
the soft warm arm across my waist
I am not the restaurant any more